When Will it End?
by xUSUK
Summary: "The world has been taken over by the sick... But how do we know that we aren't the sick already?" A little thing I made late in the night. It will hopefully be a full story, depending on how people like this. Rated T for: Swearing, small gore, yaoi, and so on.
1. Chapter 1

Lately, this world had been rough. One day you'd be waking up to the sounds of birds chirping, and maybe even small whispers from your loved one that lay next to you in bed, but now you'd be lucky if you catch a wink of sleep. Somehow, some odd disease has spread through and infected thousands of people- so many that Arthur Kirkland hadn't seen an actual healthy human in places outside of camps. A normal person would describe them as a zombie, or just plain _undead_. But they weren't zombies. The people weren't undead. They were contaminated. Sick; Blood thirsty. Their flesh would be rotting from their bones, a deep red stained trail following them wherever they went. Their jaws so broken from eating the chilled flesh of the healthy was normally broken or somehow snapped in a horrifying way. They roamed around at night, trying to find more victims to infect and feed on.

Arthur had seen someone get eaten. His boyfriend. The beasts jumped on him, snarling and gurgling the blood that clogged their throats. Arthur wanted to do something; he really did. But he couldn't move a single bone in his body, for his nerves had been frozen with the cold shards of fear. He just stood there, eyes wide in horror as the beasts tore his boyfriend's stomach open with nothing but their fingernails and teeth. It made him sick, that sight.

The only way to keep yourself from getting contaminated was to keep on a gas mask to filter the infected air you breathe in every second. Though, the air got to most people before they could find a gas mask. You'd be considered lucky. Someone that fate knew would be able to continue on. Arthur was one of those fate had chosen.

Just now, he was searching for more supplies to bring back in camp with a German that had joined the small refugee camp about a month ago. He hated being on search. Arthur and the German, Ludwig, were looking in an abandoned building. Any little bit of wood or cloth had been warring away by munching termites, fungus, or just plain rot. Wooden planks from the ceiling had fallen, creating large piles of dust and chippings of wood. Arthur bent down and lifted a board from a pile, only to jump back in surprise as a large bundle of bugs scattered out in fear of the light.

He sighed softly, and grumbled a little before he threw the plank back down to the floor. "Bloody hell… I don't understand why the bloody-shit-pile-of-a-frog, Francis, has to make us put up with this." He snarled quietly, some words slurred by the gas mask and making Ludwig sigh as well. "Look, he only makes _you_ put up with this because _you_ complain about it."

"…And what gets you out here in this blasted hell hole?"

"Strength, common sense, and a clean slate with Francis."

"Bullshit." Arthur scoffed, and fixed the hold on his hunting rifle that was slung over his shoulder. "Let's just hurry, look around for a little while, go back, and hope that some other pairs found anything." He said, wanting to give up on the whole search group. Ludwig turned towards Arthur, and shook his head slowly with a deep sigh, "We're going to get our heads kicked in." "Hell if I care." Arthur spat out quickly.

Then, a small shuffling was heard behind a rotted bookcase right besides Arthur. "Shh," Arthur hissed softly. He frowned, and took out his hunting rifle before he aimed, and took a few steps to the side to find a good angle. Slowly taking one step, then another. And another. And finally, another.

As if timed perfectly, a horrifying creature shot out from behind the book shelf, arms out to grab Arthur. Its skin was practically rotten down to the bone, and it was missing an eye. He was snarling, and screeching at whatever he could as he rushed out to the Brit. It gave Arthur quite a jump, but not enough for him to lose guard. He quickly shot the creature in the head, making bits of flesh and blood scatter about behind it. Arthur scoffed, and replaced the hunting rifle to his shoulder. "Pff, you'd think these things would put up a much larger fight, ey lad?" Arthur said, not finding this much exciting.

Ludwig shrugged, and continued his search. Arthur rolled his eyes, and began to head down a hallway to continue investigating the building. The building's hallway was dark, for the lights above had been shot somehow. One still flickered lightly, showing off multiple blood stains that showed no mercy. Filing cabinets were knocked over, their drawers cleaned out of papers. Arthur looked around in disgust, hating messy areas such as this. His footsteps echoed in the halls with small little _tap tap taps_ hitting the floor. He looked around, examining more of the blood stains splattered on the floor and walls. _…Wait… _He thought to himself. _These look far too manmade. There's no way that a creature could do something so forc-_ Just then, Arthur felt himself being pushed into a wall, a sharp object being held up to his neck. His cheeks were against the cold walls, arms gripped behind his back. "Stay still," A voice commanded from behind, "and you'll be fine. Take one move, and your neck gets sliced."

Just then, he felt his heart freeze with terror.

* * *

Heh, I hoped you enjoyed. This is really my first 'action' story, so there might be rough edges... u.u Also, my grammar will most likely be weak. 8th grade English isn't really working for me at the moment...

This was originally going to be a role play, but no one seemed to enjoy it as much as I thought they would.

And, blah blah blah, there will be USUK in later chapters- just a warning.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur shivered slightly at the cold searing to his cheeks, but otherwise, he kept still. He tried to look at the person who was keeping his hostage, but he wasn't able to because the man was directly behind him. "Now, I'm going to turn you around, and you're not going to do anything stupid." The voice commanded once more. He loosened his grip on Arthur's wrists slightly, but before he let go completely, he took Arthur's hunting rifle, and threw it down across the room with a loud thud. He removed the knife, and placed it back in his holder with a small _click_.

"Arthur? Are you okay?" Ludwig called from the main room. Arthur heard the voice of Ludwig echo off the walls and was about to answer before he felt a hard tug on his wrist, making him hiss softly with pain. "Yes, just knocked something over by mistake. Don't worry about it." He managed to squeak out loud enough. "Alright, just keep it down." Ludwig called back before the room grew silent again. Then, the man let go of some of the grip that he had around Arthur's wrists, allowing the Briton to turn abruptly. He jerked as he turned, scowling at whoever was holding him back.

Arthur didn't know what happened in his head, but his glare softened slightly as he saw the man. The man was tall with messed up sandy blonde hair, and a show of muscles. His glasses were cracked slightly, but they showed deep blue eyes that Arthur knew had seen plenty. The man glared back down at him, tightening his grip. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He said quietly, yet harshly. Arthur swallowed hard before he managed to reply. "I'm here looking for supplies for a group of mine; nothing more, nothing less." The man's expression didn't change. It stayed hard and cold. "There's nothing here you can have. This is my building. If you want to keep that pretty little face of yours pretty, then I suggest you take you and your friend back to your camp and never show your face here again."

Arthur scoffed, "Bloody hell, lad. We were here for a few mere minutes and you're already getting your damn knickers in a twist." He felt the man's grip tighten slightly around his wrists, causing his arms to dig upward harshly. "Dude, I'm in no mood to fuck around. I've dealt with many people and their shit- and it all ended badly for me." Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion, not fully understanding the American's point.

The American man sighed, and shook his head. "I'll give you your fuckin' rifle back, and you go. Tell your buddies at your _camp_ that this is my building. Don't come back." Arthur took a deep breath, and gave a firm nod. "Fine."

The man then let god of Arthur, who gave out a small sigh of relief. He then rubbed his wrist softly, trying to relieve any access, stinging pain that radiated off of the red marks. "…You could have at least lightened the grip on me wrists. They bloody hurt now." He mumbled, glancing over at the American, who now leaned down to pick up the rifle. He tossed the hunting rifle over to the Brit, and Arthur caught it easily. Arthur glanced up and down the American, and felt confused when he saw that the man was skinny as all can be. "…Have you eaten?" He randomly asked, to which the American glared again. "Why would I tell you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and turned so that his back was facing the American as he began to walk away. "I only wanted a simple answer. Yes or no would have sufficed…" He muttered before it grew quiet, other than the small _tap tap taps _from Arthur's shoes once more. "Farewell." He called as he got to the main room again.

Ludwig turned, wanting to know if Arthur had found anything. "Did you find anything useful back there?" Arthur shook his head. "Nothing. No small rat nor roach." He replied with a sigh, "Now come on. We're leaving this bloody building." He called, waving his hand forward so that Ludwig would follow. But instead, Ludwig shot Arthur a confused glare. "We were sent here to look for suppli-" "I know." "Then why are we leaving?"

"Someone else lives here, and we're trespassing."


	3. Chapter 3

Little warning: Small bits of Franada in this part~

* * *

It took quite some time, but Arthur managed to get Ludwig to agree on finally getting out of that building and back to camp. It was well barricaded, so everyone thought it was safe for now. Once they arrived, the little leader of this group, and his next hand man came over to talk to them. Francis looked over the two, frowning once he noticed that not even a single bag of theirs was filled. "…Did you run into trouble?" He asked, French accent flowing thickly. Arthur glared at the man, only shrugging. "I suppose so." "What does that mean?" "It means we might or might not have run into trouble." Gilbert, Francis' second-in-command sighed and rolled his red eyes, "Just tell us what happened out there, prissy Brit."

Arthur took in a deep breath, using all of his will power to make sure he didn't snap at the albino. "Look, someone was already there, and I didn't want any trouble." Francis' face lit up softly, but with annoyance, "But you just left? Arthur, that was so stupid of you! He could have had a lot on him!" He glared at the Briton, getting annoyed with every second of this conversation. Arthur and Francis never… really agreed on anything that each other said or wanted.

"He had a bloody knife to my throat, you frog!" Arthur spat back, feeling the same annoyance building up. Francis sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose to try and calm down before replying, "But still- you made no move to try and find supplies for the camp-" He was cut off by a small voice behind him. "Ah, um, Francis?" Francis turned to look over at a rather small Canadian, and his face lit up with a smile. "Oui, mon petite?" (Yes, my little one?) The Canadian, Matthew, if Arthur remembered correctly, looked down at the floor before mumbling, "Pourrais-je vous parler un instant? C'est assez important ..." (Could I talk to you for a moment? It's rather important...) "Oui, tenez-vous s'il vous plaît, mon amour." (Yes, hold on please, love.) Francis quickly answered back. Francis turned back to Arthur, smile completely gone.

"Come and talk to me after this. We need to talk." Francis grumbled before he draped an arm around Matthew's waist and walking away while talking back and forth in French. Gilbert and Arthur watched the other two walk away, and once they were out of sight, Gilbert turned to face Arthur. "You're fucked." He said with a smirk. "But I'm serious; you should have gotten some sort of message to him. You can't let people walk up to you and threaten you. Shoulda' shot him with your rifle."

Arthur took in a deep breath before shooting his deep, defiant stare to the Albino in front of him. He took a few steps forward, getting close enough to Gilbert so that he could talk to him without anyone else hearing. "I've gone through too much- and lost too much as well. It's a living hell for me to continue living, and I wouldn't want to make someone feel the same way. I'm not willing to kill anyone unless they're an inclusive threat to me, or someone I hold dear." He said harshly. He then took a few steps back, and marched over to his tent in anger.

This was true. With his mother dying in a car accident, and then his father dying of alcohol poisoning only seven years later, it brought a large toll on him. In middle school up to high school, he was in a form of depression. The only real thing that changed his view on life was his boyfriend, but he was long gone by now.

Arthur got into his tent, zipping up the door quickly and laying down on his cot and pillow with a sigh. He closed his eyes, trying to think of what to do. Now that he had mentioned someone else's territory, Francis is most likely going to send out a group to go and make the person surrender, give up all their supplies, or fall to the floor with red stains all over them. He felt awful. Killing people was not his specialty- nowhere near it. He just wanted to sleep for the rest of the day and hopefully feel better after he woke up.

So, he did just that. He rolled over to the side, to which he found was most comfortable, and forced his eyes shut. Forcing yourself to sleep was difficult, but he always managed to do it once the world went to hell. He couldn't sleep with the cold feeling resting on his shoulders.

Arthur didn't know how long it took for him to sleep, but he knew it wasn't a short time. Sleeping made him feel at peace, but this time, he felt an odd numbness as he wandered in the dark…

* * *

Eheh... sorry! My chapters seem to keep getting shorter and shorter- but I have an excuse this time! c: I've been needing to continue this music video and painting, along with tons of homework... So yeah... longer chapters promised soon...


	4. Chapter 4

Small pairings mentioned: Prussia x Austria and Spain x Romano

* * *

Arthur awoke, feeling sick to his stomach. His head ached as if someone had beat him over the head with a four hundred ton anchor, and his stomach felt like it was churning and churning, like a tsunami hitting his insides. When he opened his eyes, light was shining brightly through the openings in his tent. He sat up, only to lie back down as his head thumped. He shut his eyes tightly, curling up in a ball to try and compress the pain away. Arthur needed somebody to come in so he can tell them what was going on. As if on cue, a Spanish man by the name of Antonio came walking by, clearing his throat before speaking. "Arthur, you up? You weren't up when breakfast started." Arthur simply groaned in reply. Antonio seemed concerned, and ducked his head into the British man's tent. He sighed softly, eying Arthur. "Get up."

Arthur opened his eyes to look up at Antonio, eyes furrowed in confusion. "Up. We're going to bring you to Yeka- you look as pale as Gilbert does on a regular day." Arthur just grumbled, managing to get up without falling again after two tries. His knees were weak, but he refused to get any assistance from the Spaniard. ("I'll be fine- let go of me, you git.") He hobbled over to the medical tent, with minimum help from Antonio, even though Arthur would deny every single bit of it.

Antonio stepped in the tent first, flashing a small smile at Yekaterina, a… large breasted Ukrainian woman, who took care of any people who needed help in any way. She was rather sweet, but also very emotional if you affront her in any way. Yeka turned her attention from a small sleeping patient to the two men who walked through the tent door. She smiled sweetly, getting up from her seat. She walked over, only having her smile fade when she saw how pale Arthur had gotten. "Oh dear, Arthur… Are you alright?"

"We were hoping you could answer that…" Antonio said with a small smile.

Yeka nodded softly, only to motion he heads towards an empty, old hospital bed. "Why don't you lie down, and I'll see what's going on?" She offered, pulling away the single blanket that lied on the bed. Arthur frowned at the faint crimson stains, but lied down anyway as the nurse instructed him. As he did so, Arthur glanced over to the human lying in the bed that Yeka was focusing on earlier. He saw Antonio standing by the bed, petting the brunette's hair softly. The brunette's eyes were closed softly, mouth agape ever so slightly. His leg was bandaged, resting on a stack of two pillows to keep it elevated, and a bandage wrapped around his head, red marks seeping through. With a more focused look, he noticed that it was one of the wall's lookouts- Lovino. Antonio looked down at the boy with sad, drooping eyes. Yeka had been done seating Arthur, and followed his gaze. Noticing how Antonio was upset, she bit her lip softly.

"He's been doing fine since the last attack. He seemed to have tripped while twisting his ankle, but fell on something rather hard, causing his consciousness to go out for a few weeks…He should be fine next week, however. But I advise you- keep a close watch on him. His vision might go blurry at times, and his balance will be lost dearly… So I don't think he'll be watching on the wall for a while now." Yeka said with a sweet, sympathetic smile on her face.

Antonio chuckled halfheartedly. "Yeah… he won't be too happy with that. He loves hanging out by the wall." Yeka nodded softly, "But I think he'll be fine if you stay by him when he's ready to get up." Antonio nodded.

Yeka turned her attention back to Arthur. "Now, what exactly is going on?" She asked with a kind smile. Arthur thought for a moment before answering blandly, "My head and stomach hurt like hell. Head's throbbing, stomach's churning…" His voice faltered before he coughed lightly. Yeka sighed, feeling Arthur's forehead with her fragile hand. "Oh dear… Arthur, you'll have to be staying here for a while. You have a fever of some sort…Have you been feeling dizzy?" Arthur nodded. "Then you'll have to stay here. You won't be going on anymore searches for a while until you're fully treated."

Arthur snickered softly and leaned back to try and get comfortable in the chair. "Alright. That's perfectly fine with me. I hate going out and taking orders from that frog of Francis." He smiled, satisfied. Yeka sighed again, writing something on her clipboard. "Okay, I'll go and inform Francis about this situation. He won't be plea-" She was interrupted by Arthur sitting up quickly.

Arthur squinted his eyes as he tried to fucos on hearing someone talking outside. He immediatley recognized the voices of Gilbert and Roderich.

"I'm not having you out there again! You almost got killed!" Roderich hissed at the albino. Gilbert sighed, "Specks-" "Don't call me that, Gilbert!" "Roddy, look- I have to go out there. Someone threatened Arthur, and Francis thinks that there's something that he's hiding. So we're going out there to get whatever it is." Arthur's eyes widened slightly, listening more.

Roderich's voice was shaking slightly. "I-I can't have you out there again! I refuse! I don't want you to die, or get hurt, or bitten… I can't think of that." He said, nervously. Gilbert sighed and grabbed the Austrian's hands gently. "I promise I won't get hurt. We're going tomorrow night, so I still have another night with you, okay? Don't worry." He smiled softly, but it didn't seem to help the Austrian calm down. He hugged Roderich, mumbling German into his ear. Arthur heard enough, and growled silently. He got up, only to be pulled down by Yeka again. "Arthur, where are you going? You can't leave! You're sick."

Arthur shook his head, "I have to go somewhere!"

"Where on earth do you have to go?"  
"Just… Just somewhere, alright?"

Arthur yanked his arm away, walking towards the door in hope to get out. He was blocked by the Spanish man. "Sorry, mi amigo. You can't go anywhere- you're crazy. Sit back down, will you? Arthur shook his head violently, glaring deeply. "I'm not going to. I told them not to mess with that guy- and they're going to do exactly that!" Antonio sighed, shaking his head slowly. "It's dangerous," he began, "there's no way you're going out there with such a large fever. Sit down." Arthur pushed past him, storming out. "Don't you bloody think about following me!" He called back sourly. "At least tell us where you're going!" Antonio called back, knowing not to mess with an angered Brit.

"I'm going somewhere… to help someone I don't even know."


End file.
